


O.W.L.(Offered With Love): Tales of The Goblin King's Gifts

by LFFLCollective



Category: Labyrinth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFFLCollective/pseuds/LFFLCollective
Summary: Are you feeling lower down than the Underground? Do you ever find yourself in need of a hug from a soft, snuggly owl? Maybe a sweet, peachy smell to remind you that the world's not so sour? The Goblin King is feeling generous, and he's got you covered. A selection of warm, fuzzy gifts from some of the LFFL authors to spread a little love amongst the fandom.





	1. Chapter 1

_Sarah had a little owl,_

_It just showed up at her door._

_It gave her funny looks, sometimes,_

_And it lived in her underwear drawer._

Later, Sarah would remember thinking that there had been no sound, no pounding of knuckles at her door, nor harsh squawk of the buzzer to let her know that _something_ was there that evening. She just remembered shuffling to the front door of her apartment with what felt like the very last bit of energy she had, only to look down and find that someone had brought her a gift. It was wrapped up in blue and silver, and it was sitting right there on the ground, just waiting for her to pick it up.

She took a glance around the empty hallway – brief and timid, as she hadn't been able to bring herself to shower for a few days – before bending to scoop up the strange little package. Her lank hair tickled at her unwashed cheeks as she whipped herself upright again and quickly closed the door.

Back in the safe-zone offered by her tiny, overstuffed couch and her ratty old fleece blanket, she worked the parcel open with slow, clumsy fingers, taking the time to appreciate the deep blue silk of the ribbon, and the soft, almost fabric-like thickness of the silver paper. Someone had spared no expense on the elegant presentation, and she was careful not to damage any of it as she went about her unwrapping. She had almost figured out how to unravel the last bit of paper without it tearing, when her present tumbled free and landed square in the middle of her cluttered coffee table.

It was a little stuffed owl – a barn owl, to be more precise, judging by the mostly white coloring. It was an oddly pretty little thing, with sapphire blue tips to some of the downy fluff that represented its feathers, and a soft touch of glitter above each of its large, glass eyes. It was gorgeous, and it would have been the perfect addition to anyone's stuffed animal collection, were it not for the slight manufacturing fault: the glossy black orb that was the bird's left eye was significantly larger than the right. When Sarah lifted it a little higher to examine it, she swore she could smell the faint, sweet scent of peaches.

There was no note, not a single thing to explain either her surprising gift or its giver, and that was perhaps enough of a clue in itself. She had no doubt who it was from. The Goblin King worked in mysterious ways, and she didn't have the energy right then to try to decipher any of them. The little owl, cute as it was, found itself relegated to her 'childhood junk' drawer – all of the trinkets and stuffed animals she'd once unpacked from her old home, only to hide them all away again. She was far too busy for magic and childish fantasy nowadays. The owl gave no outward protest about its new, cramped home, and so there it stayed as Sarah trudged her way back to her little couch and blanket. She sat, and she felt too empty to cry, and, in the wee hours of another dull grey morning, she finally fell asleep.

When she woke the next day, a slight crick in her neck from her odd sleeping position, she found she had a little more energy than she was accustomed to of late. She used it to make a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea. The fragrant steam of her drink worked its way into her nose, and the smell managed to stir the sleeping beast in her belly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt up to eating. By some miracle, she found the small loaf of bread she had left to be free of mold and any other exciting new inhabitants. She slipped two slices into the toaster before she went to check her messages.

As usual, there was nothing new from her family – nothing new at all, in fact. There was only the old, saved message from a friend she'd heard a dozen times before, but didn't have the fortitude right then to answer: they were concerned about her, they loved her very much, and they were always there for her, should she need them. Sarah blinked away the single strange, hot tear that little reminder brought, and quickly shut off her answering machine.

After the tea and the toast, she felt a little more human than she had in at least a week. She sat up a little straighter as she turned on the TV. The news told her that the world was still going on outside of her apartment, and was still as shitty as she'd come to expect, but none of it hit her in the same, strangely personal way it usually did. It wasn't up to her to fix every little problem in the universe even if she'd had the power to try. All she could do was try to live her life.

That flash of optimism was disconcerting, and Sarah had a strange feeling she knew what undeniably magical source it was coming from. She stomped into her bedroom and yanked open her junk drawer, only to find it suspiciously owl free. She shoved aside several of her childhood treasures, but still came up empty handed. Confused, she pulled open the drawer beneath it – the drawer that held all of her underwear – and found that her new gift had decided to make itself at home.

The owl was nestled into her silkiest pair of panties, in outright defiance of where she'd first placed him. She told herself it would have been easy enough for the stuffed toy to tumble down the back of that first, overfilled drawer, and that the owl _had_ worn that same, smug expression when she'd first laid eyes on him. It. Whatever. She was embarrassed to admit that the little guy looked so comfortable, surrounded by her panties, bras, pantyhose and stockings, all that feminine silk and lace, that she was reluctant to move him back to the other drawer. It looked like he'd found his new home. If Sarah wasn't mistaken, it also looked like he wanted a hug.

A strange feeling of acceptance crept over her as she raised the stuffed toy in both hands. It was light enough for her to lift easily, but there was a reassuring weight to it that shouldn't have been part of something so small. It was the perfect size to nestle between her cheek and shoulder, cupped in both her palms. When she hugged that little owl, it almost felt like it was hugging her back.

Heaving out a sigh, Sarah pulled the owl tighter against her cheek. As she did, that sweet smell of peaches grew stronger. It was soft and slightly warm, and it soothed her aching soul in ways she couldn't quite describe. There was no magic in the world that could cure all of her woes, not completely, but there was something unspoken and magical in that hug that offered her just that little bit more strength, the faintest golden glimmer of hope she so desperately needed.

That owl couldn't save her, but it could hold her in love and understanding, as she faltered and sometimes failed, and rose up on her own fragile wings to save herself.

Sarah clutched that little owl all the tighter as, for the first time in so, so long, she let down all of her walls and simply wept. The owl soaked up all of her tears without complaint, and never once seemed too damp and soggy to take on a few more. It was gently returned to its place in Sarah's underwear drawer as, for the first time in at least a week, Sarah crawled into her actual bed, and slept.

The next day, she took a shower before her tea and toast, and found that both elements of her simple breakfast tasted far better than they had any business doing.

The day after that, she tackled a little of the mess that had accumulated around her couch and kitchen hangouts. That night, the owl received another hug, and also a little kiss on its fuzzy head – not as a thank you, but as a shared celebration of her small victory. She had done it wholly by the drive of her own power.

A couple of days after that, Sarah finally ventured outside. At first, it was a simple 'seek and destroy' mission: the acquisition of milk and bread and other kitchen essentials, before a hasty retreat home. She stuck diligently to the plan at first, but on the way back home, the sun just felt so goddamn _good_ on her pale, needy skin, that she had to stop to savor it. She spoke to her first actual human in over a week, and from them she procured coffee and a bagel, and a friendly smile, the latter of which she managed to return. She mulled over all three on an empty bench in her local park, the old, sun-warmed wood a comfortable support for her back and her small bag of groceries. She stayed until all but the last few crumbs of her bagel were gone, and by the time she sipped the last of her coffee, there were happy tears in her eyes.

She was going to be okay. There were friends to get back in touch with, and a job and a never-ending list of responsibilities that would always demand her attention, but she was going to be okay.

She knew that, even on those days when her strength was at its lowest ebb, and when the world around her made her very heart hurt, there was always her friendly owl. He would listen and he would hold her, in love and understanding, on those dark days where she needed him most … and on those better days, the brightest ones where she had the strength to soar alone, he would stand back and watch with pride as the sun filtered through her wings. She was going to be okay.

Smiling, Sarah picked herself up and headed home.

_Sarah had a little owl,_

_He just showed up at her door._

_He kept her from falling apart, sometimes,_

_And he still lived in her underwear drawer._

-PaintedGlass


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you feeling lower down than the Underground? Do you ever find yourself in need of a hug from a soft, snuggly owl? Maybe a sweet, peachy smell to remind you that the world's not so sour? The Goblin King is feeling generous, and he's got you covered. A selection of warm, fuzzy gifts from some of the LFFL authors to spread a little love amongst the fandom.

He sighed as he looked at his very full shopping cart. This was the 17th store he had been to and the day was coming to an end. If he had known this task was going to be so difficult, he would have found something else to do for them. But that's what he gets for being such a softy that loves his beloved girls.

Several of them had been having a rough time over the last year or so. Between losing the great Bowie and other inspirational legends, dealing with stress at their jobs and at home along with various other personal things they all had to deal with, his lovelies were in desperate need of pick-me ups. So what was he to do? He was getting each of them a plushie, specifically a little-stuffed barn owl.

He grinned as he held one of the owls in his hand. It wasn't a perfect likeness, but it was the closest he could find. Sighing, he counted the owls. Sadly the store only had 33 in stock, and that's including what they had in their back room. “Well, at least I know where to find them.” He said quietly to himself as he waited in line to check out. “33 down, only 340 more to find.”

“Kingy!”

Jareth looked down at the little goblin that had accompanied him on his shopping trip. “Yes?”

“Kingy why you no just makes toys?” He asked.

Jareth sighed. “I think I will next time. For now, I want to buy this for my girls. If it's store-bought they are less likely to suspect me. While a few of them know I'm real and have seen me, most believe me to be a fantasy character they turn to when they need to escape. I'd rather not break the illusion just yet. Besides if they all learn I exist do you have any idea how busy I'll be?” Jareth asked and the little goblin shrugged. “Extremely. They all would start wishing themselves to me and my castle would become full very quickly.”

He tossed the owl in the basket with the others. “No, this is the best way. I'll enchant each one and leave them on their doorsteps.” He grinned and pushed the basket forward as the man in front of him finished paying.

“Thank you for shopping at Toys-R-Us. Did you find everything you were looking for?” The young blonde at the register asked with a giant grin.

“Yes, I did,” Jareth replied. “Sadly you didn't have enough in stock though. I shall have to visit another store.”

“I could always order them for you.” She offered. “They would be here in a couple days.”

“Really?” Jareth's eyes brightened. “That would be lovely. I need 340 more.”

“340?” The cashier nearly doubled over from shock. She had assumed he was buying them for a class of children, but she never thought he'd need that many. “Why so many?”

“I have to make all of my girls happy. It's been a rough year or two for them.” Jareth answered. “So I'll take these 33 and order 340....” He stopped. “No better make it 400 more. You never know when I'll acquire a new girl to care for.”

“Are you a teacher or something?” She asked as she rang up the 33 owls he had in the cart and bagged them.

“Or something.” He smirked. “Do you accept out of country checks?”

The little goblin giggled at the look on the cashier's face as Kingy paid for over 400 stuffed owls. Jareth loaded the goblin with all the bags and they made their way out to continue their shopping. “Where to now Kingy?”

“Bath and Body Works.” He answered as they walked through the mall. “I think I'll include a small bottle of peach lotion for them.”

The goblin shook his head and followed the King. “Good thing Kingy rich...” he mumbled.

-Lady_Lannie_Queen_of_Goblins


	3. A PLETHORA OF PEACHES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you feeling lower down than the Underground? Do you ever find yourself in need of a hug from a soft, snuggly owl? Maybe a sweet, peachy smell to remind you that the world's not so sour? The Goblin King is feeling generous, and he's got you covered. A selection of warm, fuzzy gifts from some of the LFFL authors to spread a little love amongst the fandom.

“Peach Bath Bombs?” Jareth muttered, picking up the pale pink-orange object and turning it over in his hand, before lifting it toward his nose and giving it a delicate sniff. It certainly smelled of peaches, and even was vaguely peach shaped. Peaches he understood. They were sensual and spoke to the natural lusts that underpinned his kind. But ‘bath bombs’ - there his understanding stopped. “Why in the seven veils would anyone want an exploding, peach scented bath?” he wondered, looking at the wide-range of ‘bath bombs’ of all colors and scents, grouped neatly into wooden crates along the shelves of the wall, looking for all the world like a fruit market stall -- of exploding fruit.

Sitting the potentially explosive bath fruit back in the wooden crate with its mates, Jareth blew peach scented dust from his gloves and frowned. “Sarah understands modern human female interests far better than I, but I can’t see how my scribes would find gifts of exploding bath fruit ‘relaxing’.”

“Those are really popular right now. We can’t keep them in stock.”

Jareth glanced up toward the counter, finally noticing the blue-haired clerk wearing the black ‘Lush’ smock. Her heavily lined eyes quirked up at the corners as she smiled at him. Stepping from behind the counter she walked toward him. “Can I help you with something?”

Nodding, Jareth waved a hand toward the peach ‘bath bombs’. “I admit to being a bit...unfamiliar… with this manner of bath product. My wife suggested them as a gift for some female...um friends. What do they do?”

The clerk grinned at him and picked up a miniature version of one of the peach-scented ‘bombs’ and dropped it into a large glass jar of water. Jareth flinched as the bomb hit the water, then slowly relaxed. Leaning toward the glass he tapped the jar, looking at the tiny bubbles rushing upward through the water, from the small bomb. As they popped upon the surface of the water a sudden burst of peach scent wafted from the wide neck of the jar.

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth looked from the jar to the clerk. “They fizz? That’s all?”

Vaguely puzzled, the girl nodded. “Sure. That’s what bath bombs do.”

“Oh…I see. I’ll need 400.”

Her purple rimmed eyes opened wide, as the clerk gawked at him. “400...seriously?”

Jareth tilted his head owlishly and looked at her. “I assure you that I rarely joke about such things. I’ll take 400 of these bath bombs. Now, what else do you have that women seem to like?”

“Um…” the clerk looked around the shop, then picked up an orange and pink striped cake with nubs along one side, and a gauze pouch. “These are big sellers in our peach range. Our ‘Peach Dreams’ massaging soap and ‘Peach Bathtime Tea’.”

Jareth plucked the peach colored gauze bag from her hand and dangled it in the air in his fingertips, peering at it suspiciously. “Bathtime tea? You drink it while bathing?”

The warm laughter that rippled from her lips made Jareth bristle, his fingers itching to drop the insolent girl in the bog. Fighting down the urge, he dropped the bag into her hand, only to watch her drop it into the large jar of water.

“Oh no...although I suppose you could. It’s an aromatic bath tea. You put it in the water as it runs and the oils in the flowers and such moisturize the skin while the scent helps with relaxation.”

“You women actually like bathing in...tea?” Jareth asked, aghast as he watched the water around the peach bag begin to turn faintly pink and golden, while the scent of peaches became stronger. “I see. Fine. I’ll take 400 of those and another 400 of the bathing cakes,” he said, not seeing the way the clerk’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at his order. “Now… what have you for males? Some shaving soap perhaps… something a bit more masculine than peach, I should think.”

Nodding the clerk led him toward the ‘men’s section’ at the back of the shop, her mind already whirling as she calculated her potential commission from this huge order.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Groaning, Jareth pulled the pillow over his head trying to block out the sound of pounding that assailed his sensitive ears. He had been up most of the night supervising the delivery of the gift baskets for his scribes and had only crawled into bed with his wife as the sun started to rise.

“Your Majesties!!” shouted Sir Didymus, pounding on their bedroom door.

“Jareth…” Sarah murmured, nudging him.

“Bog him,” Jareth grumbled, burrowing deeper into the covers.

Sitting up, Sarah waved her hand at the door and it swung open, revealing a frantic Sir Didymus, pausing in mid-rap upon the door, his walking staff raised to beat upon the heavy wood.

“Oh...your Majesties!! Come quick!! There is something wrong with the goblin horde!” he gasped.

Sarah frowned, while Jareth groaned, tugging the pillow tighter over his head. “Of course there is something wrong with them. They’re goblins,” he groused. “Now bugger off and let me sleep.”

Ignoring her husband, Sarah slipped from the bed and wrapped her dressing gown around herself. “What’s the problem, Didymus?”

“They...they’re foaming at the mouth! Come see...in the throne room.”

Sarah snatched up Jareth’s robe and threw it at his head. “Up and at’um Goblin King. Goblins are weird, but they don’t foam at the mouth… usually,” she ordered, then shoved him with her foot until he finally threw back the covers and pulled his robe on. “Goblins don’t get rabies do they?” she asked, running a worried hand over the gentle bump of her belly.

“Relax, darling. Goblins are hardy creatures. Even the worst diseases of the mortal plane would barely give them a bellyache. No doubt Didymus has his whiskers twisted for no good reason,” he said, stretching as he rose from the bed. Slipping his arm around his wife, he let the magic of the Labyrinth pour through him in a rush, transporting them to the throne room.

The scene that greeted them was utter bedlam. Goblins were falling about, pinkish foam pouring from their gaping maws, twisted into mockeries of smiles, as they laughed and screeched merrily. Hearing Sarah’s horrified gasp, Jareth swept her to the dais and deposited her safely upon the throne, where no goblin could possibly harm her or the gentle swell she protected with both hands. Around them the scent of peaches was nearly overpowering, drowning out the usual stench of spilled ale and chicken shit.

“What’s wrong with them?” she wondered in hushed tones.

Frowning, Jareth stalked down the steps and into the throng of goblins, who upon closer inspection seemed none the worse for wear, baring the pinkish foam pouring from their mouths. With a quick side-step, he grabbed Snotbristle by the scruff of his neck and hoisted the little goblin in the air. “What have you been up to?” Jareth demanded, his nose wrinkling up in disgust as globs of foam splattered upon his dressing gown.

“Wheez eatin tea cakes and ‘splody candies!” Snotbristle chirped happily.

“You’re what?” Jareth asked, his keen eyes skimming the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw several goblins gnawing on bars of pink-orange striped cakes, while another group was pouring water into a large teapot with a bit of pink ribbon hanging out of the top.

“Tea cakes and candy?” Sarah asked, pulling her robe more tightly around herself.

“Youze want some tea, Queenie?”

The horrifying realization of what was happening dawned on Jareth with agonizing clarity, as he watched Riffsquibble grin up at Sarah, offering her a slightly chipped Royal Doulton tea cup, with tiny blue periwinkles on it.

“Nooo!” the Goblin King hissed, attempting to reach his queen, only to be blocked by the squirming, foaming bodies of goblins as they crowded around him, waving hunks of massaging soap and grimy handfuls of bath bombs at him.

To his horror, Jareth watched Sarah take the cup and lift it to her lips. Leaping over the goblins, he snatched the cup from her and hurled it across the room.

“Jareth! What on Earth! It’s just a cup of tea!” Sarah yelped, her green eyes narrowing dangerously as her unstable magic shimmered in the air around them.

“Soap, Sarah. The little cretins are eating the leftover soap cakes, bath teas and bath bombs from the gift baskets you suggested for our scribes,” he explained, dropping onto the throne next to her.

Around them the goblins happily grinned at their monarchs, foamy pink mouths twisted into caricature grins.

“You mean….”

“Yes, as far as I am concerned, they attempted to poison the Queen and the Heir,” Jareth grumbled, waving a hand at the horde that filled the throne room. A wild wind swept through the room, blowing foam around in a tiny tornado of peach-scented fluff, as the goblin horde vanished with a sharp cracking noise. When the wind stopped the room was once more set to rights, then only hint of a problem being the faint smell of peaches in the air

“Jareth...it was an accident.”

Still glaring into the room, the Goblin King gave a growl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“No buts... “ he muttered crankily.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, before Sarah peered at her husband, his magic still bristling around him visibly. “Where did you send them?”

“The bog.”

“Oh dear,” she gasped, a hand covering her mouth. “Sir Didymus….”

“What?” Jareth asked, wondering at the horrified look in her eyes which warred with the amused quirk of her lips.

“He hates the smell of peaches.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
An hour later….

Sir Didymus stared in dismay at his beloved bog, now teeming with goblins who still foamed at the mouth. Each burst of air that bubbled up from the brackish bog was now colored pink and carried with it a scent so atrocious that he marveled that the goblins could stand to be so near it.

Covering his delicate nose with his paw, Sir Didymus swore under his breath, afraid to open his mouth to0 far for fear of being inundated with the horrific smell.

“Blasted goblins,” he moaned.

“Youze need tea,” chirped Riffsquibble, holding up a cracked ale mug.

“Why thank you, Riffsquibble,” Sir Didymus nodded, gingerly taking the mug and drinking deep of the warm tea.

The howl of curses that echoed from the bog from the very proper little knight, became a thing of legend, spoken about with revered whispers and honored in song around campfires and pub fireplaces for years to come…

But that is another story.

-HachimansKitsune


	4. The Owl/The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you feeling lower down than the Underground? Do you ever find yourself in need of a hug from a soft, snuggly owl? Maybe a sweet, peachy smell to remind you that the world's not so sour? The Goblin King is feeling generous, and he's got you covered. A selection of warm, fuzzy gifts from some of the LFFL authors to spread a little love amongst the fandom.

4 a.m.

The woman tossed and turned. It was hard to sleep these days. The world, her mind and spirit, they were unsettled and strange. The feeling in the air full of tension and anger. It felt like the world was holding it's breath waiting for something awful to happen.

She sighed and got out of bed. As she passed the poster on her wall, she stopped and looked at it sadly.

He was still gone. She touched the cool glass with one finger and traced the shape of his face, and pushed the sadness back down.

_I miss you..._

Shaking her head to clear it she went into the kitchen and heated some water for tea.

After it was made she sat down and stared out the window at the stars, sipping at the warm drink and listening to the night birds sing. She could hear an owl softly hooting in the tree outside the window.

There was an odd noise outside near the back door and she swore she heard a voice. A man's voice. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her cat that had been sitting near the door turned and growled low, ear backed, then moved away from the door slowly until he felt he could turn and run safely away to hide.

The woman grabbed her iron skillet and approached the door. Peeking it she thought she saw a figure hunched near it. Grasping the pan, she prpared to swing, she quietly unattached the door.

She threw it open and yelled. "Get out of here or I'll hit you with this I swear I will!" she swung at the figure, barely missing it. Whoever it was yelped and fell backwards to avoid the impact.

She went to swing again and a hand shot out. "Wait please! I've brought you a gift!"

The woman's blood ran cold. She reached back and flipped on the light.

The figure stood.

"Oh my God." The woman whispered. "I must have gone insane. I'm hallucinating."

_It couldn't be...it certainly shouldn't be..._

"No love, it's really me. I swear it." He smiled and put out a gloved hand.

The woman dropped the pan, suddenly weak. She slid to her knees and looked up at him. She was breathless and speechless. Her heart pounded in her throat.

"Jareth..." The name fell from her lips.

_It had to be because no one else looked like..._

He crouched and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright? I'm sorry if I frightened you. I wasn't expecting you to be awake."

As he helped her up the woman found her voice. "I'm okay, it's just that...you don't exist! You can't exist! He was you and you were him, and he's not here!"

He swirled his hand as he smirked, producing a crystal and rolling it over his fingers. "Well, as you can see, I do exist."

"But what about..." The woman's eyes teared up, thinking of the last months, nearly 2 years now. She looked up into his eyes, so much the same as the ones that looked at her from the picture on her wall "I don't understand any of this."

"Ahhhhh...my dear wife was worried none of you would. I wanted to approach some of you earlier, but she was afraid it would all be too much." He answered. "May we sit?"

The woman nodded and he guided them to a set of chairs she had on the small lawn.

"You see," He began, he took her hand and held it gently. "David and I, we were two halves of a whole. He was a part of me sent to your world to experience human life. It is something my kind can do but once, to understand humanity. The story he told was the story of myself and my wife. It was an old story told for the modern age."

The woman was confused. "So, you are him, but not him? "

He smiled again. "Of a sort. A piece of my soul was instilled within him, and was returned upon his passing. I have his memories but his life was his own. He was a great man with a full rich life. It's difficult to explain the magic, but yes, essentially we are one and the same, like our souls were conjoined twins while he was alive here, yet his spirit was mainly human with a piece of mine and I am vice versa. I know he loved all of you, and his human soul went to the other side knowing how much you loved him."*

The woman was blown away.

He continued. "I have watched over all of you, his scribes continuing both our stories, since his passing. I have seen so much sadness and pain, I wanted to do something."

He reached into his cloak, and pulled out a small stuffed toy barn owl. "My dear Sarah had the idea of taking these and infusing it with a touch of magic, so when one held it, it would make the sadness fade and help all of you feel happy, feel loved, less anxious and stressed, give you some strength to get through this time, and help you along a little. I am glad to see you scribes have found a way to gather and support each other. In this world full of steel and technology, humans separating themselves from each other, friendship and love, even long distance is important. Don't let that go. Try to remember how blessed you are, even when the world is so harsh and unforgiving, there is always love. Despite everything, that love still exists. "

The woman's tears flowed openly. "We miss him so. "

He stood, pulling her up. He laid the little owl in her hands and laid his over the top. With his other hand he wiped a tear from the woman's face.

"I know, and he knows too. But he wants you to be happy, and keep his spirit alive here."

A dog barked and he looked up. The sky was beginning to lighten.

The Goblin King squeezed her hand again and let go, leaving the owl. "I have to go home. My queen is expecting me."

The woman smiled up at him. "Tell Sarah I said hello."

He inclined his head. "Goodbye dear lady."

There was a rush of air and woman blinked. She opened her eyes and he was gone.

She felt very sleepy all of the sudden. Almost trance like, she went inside, turned off the light, locked the door and went to bed.

The next morning the woman rose to a beautiful sunny day. "What an amazing dream!" for the first time in a long time, she was happy to be awake and looking forward to her day.

She got out of bed and stood, stretching. She felt something soft drop and hit her foot.

She bent over to pick up the object as stopped, staring at the thing in her hand.

It was a tiny stuffed owl.

She turned and looked at the picture on the wall, tears of joy in her eyes. "Thank you."  
***************************************************************

In another world, The Goblin King watched her in a crystal, Sarah looking over his shoulder. "You're welcome." he said, smiling back, unseen.

"You're a wonderful King, and an even better man." Sarah told him. She kissed his cheek. "They'll be okay. Give them time."

"I still have more to deliver." He reminded his wife.

"About that." Sarah chuckled. "Check that they're asleep before you leave the gifts from now on. "

"Definitely. That one nearly assaulted me with a skillet!" he laughed with her, remembering the near miss.

She held up a gift bag. "And you forgot something."

Jareth's grin turned sheepish. "Oops. I'll drop it by tonight."

"Alright, but quietly." Sarah answered. "If you leave it here, the goblins will eat the peach bath bombs. Again."

Jareth groaned. "Hide them."

The two monarchs looked at each other and broke out into laughter once more, remembering.

It was a good day in both worlds.

Fin

-Jetredgirl 

*This concept borrowed lovingly and respectfully from Jinx1764's Within Dreams.


End file.
